The colony of New Hope didn't fall to mechs or man-hunters. It almost fell to the clutter. After a massive raid by the Pig-unions, the fields were littered with dozens of porky invaders. My head hauler, a cynical man named Grub, spent three days just dragging bodies to a dumping stockpile in the marsh. Then the rain started. The rotting stench—the "Corpse Obsession" mental breaks—it was a nightmare.
So, build your ovens. Train your pigs. Set your bills. The Rim is a cold, cruel place—but your colony’s mood bar doesn’t have to suffer for it. Burn bright, burn fast, and burn them all.